Hunted
by avengellie
Summary: A missed call. Natasha is gone. Something is in the tower. Just when the team finally thinks they're safe, a cruel twist of fate gives them each two options: They can either have a quick and easy death... Or be hunted. *Re-posting/rewriting/Re-imagining of a previous story "Time's Up"*
1. 1: Clint

_A/N: Hello lovelies. This story is a rewriting to a previous story I had, "Time's Up", AND the sequel I'd started for it. Instead, I'm just going to redo the whole thing, as its many years old. So if you don't want to wait for updates, the original story is always available, though it will end up slightly different than this one, just so we're clear. Enjoy. -E_

* * *

_Bzzzzz!_

Clint Barton stirred slightly in his sleep, rolling onto his side.

_Bzzzzz!_

Groaning softly, his brows furrowed as he slowly came into consciousness, the dull light of his cell phone shining in front of his face. Opening his eyes, he immediately squinted before shutting them again, eyes stinging from the sudden light. Stubbornly ignoring the message alerts on the screen, he rolled back onto his other side, facing away from the phone. Oblivious to the space in front of him being empty, he tried to drift back to sleep.

_Bzz-Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz!_

Someone was calling him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he sat up in bed, glancing over at the pale red light of his alarm clock. It was 3:45 in the morning. '_Someone better be dying_,' he thought bitterly to himself before reaching over to pick up the phone. His heart sank.

"Tasha?" Slowly coming out of his grogginess, he suddenly became all-too aware of the empty space beside him. "Tash, where are you?" Swinging his feet over the bed, he pressed the phone hard against his ear.

Static. Quickly fumbling around in the dark, he clicked his bedside light on and snatched up his hearing aids, putting them in. More static.

"Tasha?" Standing, he didn't notice the chill of the floorboards underneath his feet as he went for the door, phone still pressed to his ear. He stopped in his tracks and held his breath as he heard what sounded like nothing more than distant whispers on the other line. As though someone were whispering through an echoing auditorium. Holding the phone awkwardly in one hand, he used the other to maneuver his hearing aids to the highest setting, hoping he would be able to make out what the whispers were saying. Unmoving, so as to not make any noise, he listened.

"_Clint!_" Natasha's voice came through as a whisper, clear and firm as the static immediately ceased. Jumping, and nearly dropping his phone, he returned it to his ear.

"Tasha?!" His voice only a little louder than a whisper himself, just in case she was in danger, which he had high suspicions that she was. The static returned, only this time with Natasha's voice cutting through it.

"_I don't-somewhere still in the tower-B-7-like a closet-something out there, like a monster-not a lot of time-"_

"_...Natassssshhhhha…." _A low, dark voice interrupted her.

The static cut, the phone going silent. Heart racing, he looked at the screen. The call had ended.

"_What the fuck?_" He whispered to himself, thumb moving frantically, hovering over the screen while he tried to decide what to do. Opening his contacts, he called Natasha's phone again. Holding it up to his ear, it rang for a moment before beeping at him a few times, signalling the call had been ignored. "Shit."

If she was in trouble, she might not be able to answer the phone. She might've been hiding, needing to stay as quiet as possible. He prayed that he didn't just give away her location. From what he could gather, she was still somewhere in the Avengers tower- in a closet? Dialing a new number, he held the phone to his ear again, listening to it ring for what seemed like hours.

"_Barton, what do you want,_" Tony Stark's voice had a hint of impatience to it, and he could tell that he was on speakerphone. "_Kind of in the middle of something important, here!_" Clint could hear the bright sounds of a video game coming from the background, the light clicks of controllers mixed among them.

"Stark, I need the security footage from the past couple hours," he informed him as he grabbed a sweater and slipped on a pair of shoes. Jogging back to the door, he opened it and stepped outside into a large hallway, dozens of doors lining the walls, all identical to his. Some with light decorations on them, others plain, he walked past them quickly. The air in the hallway was cooler than he expected, and he was immediately glad that he thought to grab his sweater, almost regretting that he didn't take Natasha's for her as well.

"Oooh, wanting to make a 'homemade video', are we? You dirty-"

"Natasha's missing." Clint cut him off irritably, not caring for Tony's teasing. A small '_What?_' could be heard from somewhere next to Tony as the sounds from the game stalled. "Security wing. Now. Finish your game later. Bring Bruce, too, if he wants to come." There was a pause, the line quiet.

"Yeah, we'll be there in a minute." A series of beeps signalled Clint that the call had ended and he glanced at his lock screen as he sped down the hall. The image of him and Natasha sharing their first kiss as a newlywed couple tugged at his heart as he opened his message notifications.

_[3:38 am, Nat] Idk where. Head throbbing. Dark n cold. Small closet I think. No way out from what I can tell. Knob locked. Light from under the door. Footsteps. ._

_[3:38 am, Nat] It's april 1. Is this some sick joke_

_[3:40 am, Nat] clint wkae up_

_[3:40 am, Nat] oh god clint wake up_

_[3:40 am, Nat] Idk what it is but all i smell is blood_

_[3:41 am, Nat] It opened the door and i saw on the wall b7 im still in the tower_

_[3:44 am, Nat] Clint its_

_[3:44 am, Nat] Coming pelase_

_[3:45 am, Nat] Help p_

Trying to swallow down the lump forming in his already too-dry throat, he rounded the corner, stopping at a plain door. Knocking loudly a few times, he took a step back and began absentmindedly tapping his foot impatiently. After a few moments, a confused looking Steve Rogers opened the door, toothbrush in hand.

"Clint?" Looking down at Clint's pajamas, his eyebrows furrowed more in confusion. "What's up?"

"Tasha's trouble," he rushed out breathlessly before stopping to blink. "I- Tasha's IN trouble. We gotta go!" Pushing past Steve he grabbed a pair of shoes and practically threw them at Steve, who easily caught them.

"What kind of trouble?" Steve had set down his toothbrush carefully on a small table he had near the door so it wouldn't get dirty before pulling his shoes on. Already dressed in a t-shirt and shorts to go on his usual 4 am jog, he wasn't really used to having to deal with _people_ so early in the morning anymore.

"Don't know! Meeting Tony in security!" Clint almost went to push Steve out the door until he realized how useless that would've been and moved around him again, once again speed-walking down the hall. Shutting the door behind himself, Steve jogged lightly to catch up.

"'Tony in security', or _Tony_, in security?"  
"What- Oh. My god. Stark. Meeting Stark so we can look at the security footage."  
"Gotcha!" The pair made their way quickly and quietly down the seemingly endless hallway and down a few flights of stairs before practically flattening Tony and Bruce just outside the stairwell doors.

"Clint! What's going on?" Bruce asked immediately, jumping back so as he wouldn't be knocked over.

"That's what we're here to find out," Clint replied irritably before grimacing slightly. "Sorry. I don't know. I'm just worried."

"So you think something happened in the tower?" Tony questioned as the group made their way into one of the control rooms. The walls of the room were filled with screens, a large desk stretching the length of three of the four walls, covered in keyboards, mice and different computers. Taking a seat, he began fiddling with one of the devices. "About what time, do you think?"  
"She called me. I couldn't make out most of it, but it seems like she's still somewhere in the tower, but she's not alone. Um, around 3-3:30." Sitting back in the chair, Tony looked up at Clint.

"Still in the tower…? Barton, are you sure that she's not just-"

"Please," Clint interrupted quickly, his tone pleading. "Just do it."

"We ought to hear him out," Steve interjected, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest.

"He's, uh. I mean he's not really one to get so riled up by nothing," Bruce shrugged nervously, glancing between everyone. Hesitating a moment, Tony nodded and turned back to the screens.

"Alright," typing in the sector and time into one of the keyboards, he nodded again. Clearly still unsure, he complied anyway. "Yeah, we'll check it out."

"Thank you."

Sitting back again, the group looked up at one of the larger screens as it played footage from Clint and Tasha's room at 3 in the morning, just 56 minutes earlier. The room obviously dark, the camera had been switched to 'night mode', and everything had a green tinge to it. The camera had been sped up very slightly, to make it go by faster. _3:10_, nothing had moved. Soon 3:15 had passed, and still, both Clint and Natasha were asleep in bed. Several small inhales and gasped escaped their mouths as at 3:26 a large, dark figure walked out from the shadows in the corner of the room.

Clint suddenly felt cold, chills running down his spine being an understatement. His heart ready to burst out from his chest, his eyes were glued to the large figure. _Who was that_? _How did they get in?!_ Feeling sick at the thought of this person being in his room and so close to him, he placed a hand over his mouth silently. All of their eyes trained on the screen, they watched as the large figure- too big to feasibly be human- stalk over to the bed and scoop a still-sleeping Natasha into what looked like large dark claws. The footage cut to static.

"_What!?_" Clint exclaimed quickly, wanting to reach out and slam the screen, as if that would get it to work again.  
"I'm-" clearly alarmed, Tony frantically typed into the keyboard. "-trying!"

"Who _was_ that?! _What_ was that?!" Bruce tore his eyes from the screen to look at Steve, his own eyes round, mouth hung open slightly.

"I'm…" Steve's voice was cut off by the static ending. The screen showed the time at 3:40, both Natasha and the figure gone, leaving Clint alone in his bed.

"Where did she say she was?" Tony asked nervously, trying over and over to replay the footage to see if he could get the times between 3:36 and 3:40, only getting static each time he did.

"I- Um," fumbling with the phone still in his hand, Clint unlocked the screen and looked at the messages still open. "A closet? B-7." Stopping, Tony slowly leaned back and looked up at Clint, clearly startled.

"B….B-7?"

"Yeah. That's what she wrote."

"Clint," Bruce leaned forwards slightly, his eyebrows bowed. "_There is no B-7_."

"Look, that's what she said, okay? B-7." Clint's eyes narrowed slightly as he fumbled in his pocket quickly for his phone.

"And I'm telling you that's not possible," Tony argued. "She must've misread it."  
"Like the signs aren't in big letters or something…" Steve pointed out quietly, crossing his arms. Clint's heart began to race again as his eyes scanned the text messages from not even an hour ago.

"_It opened the door, and I saw on the wall 'B-7', I'm still in the tower._" Clint stated, his voice as firm as he could manage as his gaze flicked up to Tony and Bruce.

"Is there anything that could've _looked_ like it said B-7? Maybe G-7?" Bruce asked, looking between the three standing around the room.

"G-7- Why would I need a _seven story garage_, Bruce?"

"I'm just saying," Bruce's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up more. "She could've misread it in a panic."  
"I don't think there's anything even slightly similar to the letter B anywhere in this tower," Tony scowled as he looked back towards the screen.

"Y'know what…" Steve started, pressing his lips together once before wetting them slightly. "I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, but… What if this is all a joke?"  
"Excuse me?" Clint demanded, rounding on Steve, already ready to start throwing punches, full well knowing he'd lose.

"Well," taking a step back, Steve wet his lips again. "I mean, it _is_ April first, and Tasha _is_ known to have a … a dark sense of humor."

"That's… I mean you aren't wrong," Bruce agreed, rubbing under his nose briefly with the back of his hand as if satisfying an itch.

"And if it's _not_?" Clint demanded, eyes narrowed at both of them. "You'd both just give up at the _chance_ that it's a joke? You'd both let her _die_?"

"Woah, okay, hang on now here," Steve put up both of his hands defensively.

"We weren't saying that, we just-"

"I mean she's a big girl, she can more than take care of herself."

"So if it wasn't, she wouldn't just _die_. But if it was-"  
"She wouldn't pull this kind of shit. Not like this. And not without me involved at the very least." Sighing heavily at the three men's arguing and for once opting to stay out of it, Tony turned his attention back to his screens.

"Hey, Jarvis?"

"_Yes, sir?"_

"How about we do a full-tower scan of all the people-err- _life forms_ in the tower? Find Natasha Barton and any possible intruders." Raising his eyebrows towards the others.

"_Right away, sir."_

"There. Happy?"

"...I wouldn't say _happy_…" Barton muttered quietly as he looked across the screens as they flashed different rooms and levels of the tower, showing different people in them, most of them still asleep.

"It would appear, sir, that Natasha Barton is in the basement of the tower, along with a-" A sudden loud electrical surge coursed through the building as its power failed.

"_Shit_." Clint spoke, his voice seeming impossibly loud in the newfound silence of the darkened room.

"_Welllll_, the uh, good news is is that the backup generators should be-" a single red light popped into existence just above the door, illuminating the room dully. "Kicking in right about now…" Tony's voice faltered and Bruce took the opportunity to finish his thought.

"The _bad news_ is that Tony decided it was '_never going to be needed anyway'_ and didn't have the generators do much more than light up the building. _And_ the lights aren't even installed everywhere. So half the tower is basically still in darkness until the power comes back on." Bruce crossed his arms as he glared over at Tony who smiled sheepishly back at him.

"Every problem presents an opportunity to learn?" Tony's grin quickly turned into a grimace as he ducked out of the way from a flying projectile coming from Clint's general direction. "Okay! Okay. I'm sorry. I was being cheap. Now I know it _can _be an issue, I'll fix it."

"Because this just makes the whole situation _loads_ better," Steve sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair once, glancing around at everyone's faces bathed in the red light.

"Speaking of fixing, though, I should probably head down and see what I can do to get power again," Tony stood at almost the exact moment his phone started blaring AC/DC's Hell's Bells. Blinking once, he fished the phone out of his pocket. '_Point Break'_.

"Thor?" Putting the phone to his ear, he glanced around at the others before turning slightly. "Yeah, I know, I was just about to head down to get it back on…"

"Alright, we need a plan of attack," Steve looked between Bruce and Steve. "If Natasha's really in trouble, which we have to treat the situation as though she _is_…"

"Thank you," Clint pressed his lips together.

"-might be something running loose in the tower-"

"So we should go in pairs, to stay safe but still cover some ground. Tony's already going to be going down to maintenance to work on getting us power again, Bruce, I'm assuming you'll be going with him?"

"-Yeah, Romanoff might be in trouble-"

"That's probably where I'd be the most help," Bruce pressed his lips together and nodded once.

"-Oh okay, great. Yeah, just meet up with Steve at uh," lowering the phone slightly, Tony looked over at Steve expectantly. "Hey, Rogers, where're you gonna be headed?"

"Well if we have Thor, too… One of us should go back and check the apartment to see if there's anything that'll tip us off to where Natasha went. The other two should start checking the basement floors to see if they can find her- and whatever that thing that took her was."

"I-" stopping himself short, Clint looked quickly between Steve and Tony. "The power is out. How are we supposed to get back into the _electronically locked _apartment door?" Pausing to think, Tony lifted the phone back to his ear.

"Alright, big guy, you're going to head over to Barton's apartment and break the door open."  
"What?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'll fix it," Tony snapped back at Clint before continuing his instruction to Thor. "Once in there, look around for any, uh, _other_ unrelated signs of break-in. See if you can find any proof of someone or some_thing_ else in that apartment and then give me or Steve a call back. Yup. Alright. Talk to you soon, buddy." Hanging up the phone, Tony looked at the group. "Let's get going then!"

"Bruce is going with you," Steve informed Tony as he moved to the exit. Stopping short, Tony stared at the door.

"We, uh. Have another problem," glancing back before going to the control panel next to the door, he tried making it work before looking around the door. _There was no handle._

"Alright, now that's just _stupid_," Clint complained loudly. "What kind of moron designs a building _without doorknobs_?! Power-outages are a _thing_, Tony, for you to be so _arrogant-_"

"Clint!" Bruce interrupted, standing in front of him, his hands out slightly to block Clint in case he tried going for Tony. "There _was_ a handle."

"What?" Steve stepped forwards to inspect the door suspiciously. "Was there?"

"_Of course there was_," Bruce turned his head to look over at Steve. Pushing past him, Clint went to the door and gestured towards it.

"No there wasn't. There isn't even a fucking _spot _or _hole_ for where it would've been. It's completely clean." There was a short pause, the air suddenly feeling more heavy than before.

"Exactly," Tony finally broke through the quiet, his voice somber as he stood up straight from where he was trying to get inside the controls. "So where is it? And how the hell do we get out?" Without hesitating, Clint braced himself and ran at the door and rammed his shoulder into it as hard as he could. Wincing and grabbing his shoulder, he tried kicking the door several times instead. "Barton!" Steve quickly held Clint back from the door, afraid he would injure himself further. "Barton, I made these doors so they specifically _couldn't_ be opened like that…" Tony insisted, scratching his head, spinning on his heel to look at what they had available to them in the room.

"_Then what would you suggest?!_" Clint spat out, prying himself away from Steve's arms in a angry huff.

"Look, getting mad isn't going to solve anythi-" Bruce tried, only to be interrupted by Clint.

"Oh, that's _real rich_, coming from _you_, Banner," Clint glared, then stopped, his eyebrows furrowing. "Wait, why don't you just turn into the big guy and break down the door?" All eyes slowly turned to Bruce as he cowered back slightly.

"I, uh," Bruce stammered, wetting his lips with his tongue briefly while looking between the three of them.

"Admittedly, that would kind of solve the problem, here…" Steve made a face as he looked around the room before settling on Bruce. "And probably solve some more problems in a bit, here…"

"It-it.. It's not that I don't _want_ to help, I just. I mean, I don't-"

_Shhhhhk!_

Bruce froze for a moment before slowly turning around to face an open doorway, the door having somehow slid back into place. The men stood silently, barely daring to breathe as they listened to the world around them. The air was heavy, the empty hallway dark and long, with one single red light shining dimly about 50 feet from the room.

After a long pause, as if deciding (or perhaps _hoping_) the door somehow opened by itself and there was nothing in the hall, Bruce whispered loud enough for the others to hear, his eyes not moving from the doorway in front of him.

"_All in favor of staying here and not moving a muscle until daytime?_"

Another pause. Eventually Steve stepped forwards, his eyes also trained on the dark hallway.

"We aren't going to get anywhere staying put," looking at Bruce, he faced the other two. "Natasha is still missing. Something clearly isn't right here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"I'm going, too," Clint quickly rushed forwards towards Steve and the door. "I need to find her."

"Besides," Steve turned to Bruce again, raising his eyebrows. "This hallway? It doesn't matter if it's daytime or nighttime. As long as the power is out, it's staying dark. No windows." Bruce gulped as Tony also stepped forwards.

"I'll head down to check out the generators and power supply. See if I can't get us power to sort through this shit." Tony's eyebrows were furrowed as he squinted in the darkness, trying to examine what he could see of the door, still slid in it's compartment. Walking quickly over to a small cabinet under one of the desks in the room, he rifled through it quickly. "Bruce?" He looked over at Bruce as he still stood frozen in place, staring down the hall.

"You'll… You'll probably need my help…" Bruce said, almost as if trying to convince himself that he should go with.

"Yes, I will," Tony stood and walked over to the three, holding two flashlights. Holding one out to Steve and Clint, he didn't care who took it. Clint reached out and grabbed it, turning on the bright beam and pointing it into the hallway. "Here." Handing the second flashlight to Bruce, he turned back to Clint and Steve. "Does at least one of you have a charged phone on you?"

"I do," Clint put his hand over his pocket to feel the outline of his phone in it, still looking down the hallway.

"I do, too," Steve pulled his out and turned the screen on. "Battery is at 98%."

"Good. Alright. We'll split up, do our shit. Anything happens, call me." Nodding, Steve put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Clint.

"Let's go." Without hesitating, Clint practically bolted out of the room, Steve following on his heels.


	2. 2: Tony

_Note: So some of the chapters will be smaller than others as they follow certain characters- others will simply have more to do than some. -E_

* * *

Watching Clint's back recede down the hallway with Steve following close behind, Tony let out a long breath.

"Hey, uh," Bruce spoke up after a few moments of heavy silence, the two of them straining their ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary as Clint and Steve disappeared into the darkness. "How about the next building you design…"

"Yeah?"

"…we make sure the backup generators _aren't _in the _basement_?"

"Yeah," Tony paused as he turned one of the flashlights in his hand on and handing the other to Bruce, not taking his eyes off the darkened hallway even to blink. "Yeah." Bruce looked at Tony, his nervousness plain to read on his face. Letting out another short sigh, Tony gave him a half smile before heading out the door. "_Follow me, it'll be fun._"

Almost skittering after Tony, Bruce followed close behind, fumbling in his pajama pockets for his phone.

"Oh, that's nice," he mused bitterly. "My phone's still up in the room. Suppose there's no point in getting it now."

"Yeah, I don't know how much I'd want to go upstairs with whatever was on the footage up there."

"That's fair," Bruce agreed as he turned his flashlight on, the beam dull for a moment before bursting into life. Tony listened as he let out a small breath of relief at the added light to the otherwise dark hallway, the red security light very dimly lighting the hall in front of their beams. Walking in silence, the pair listened for any form of noise, but there was nothing. No building creaking, no sounds of life outside the two of them coming from any of the rooms. Shining his light over the walls occasionally as they passed by a seemingly endless count of doors on either side, he noted that nearly all of the doors no longer had any handles to them, just the same as the door they had somehow come out of. Making a beeline for the first door they passed with a handle, Tony tried to turn it, only to find it firm and locked.

"Excuse me?" He scolded the door, trying to jiggle it loose, only to have it stay completely in place, unbudging. "Don't you know who I am?!"

Several doors that kept their handles yielded the same results, despite any sort of poking or prodding Tony and Bruce tried.

"God," Tony suddenly exclaimed loudly, stopping in his tracks.

"What, what's wrong?" Bruce sounded panicked, quickly twisting and turning, shining his flashlight down both directions of the hallway before focusing on Tony.

"This means we have to take the fucking _stairs_!"

"I— Wait, _that's_ what you're so concerned about?" Bruce rubbed at his temple, almost annoyed at Tony, the lack of sleep and the entire situation.

"Brucie, babe, that's-" Tony held his flashlight under his arm against his side as he counted off on his fingers. "…sixsev—_eight_ floors! That's a lot of work for 5 in the morning."

"Eight floors _down_," Bruce pointed out, glancing down the hallway before furrowing his brow. "Hey, shouldn't we have run into the stairs by now? Or Clint and Steve? I really don't remember it taking so long to get to the stairwell." Blinking once, Tony looked at Bruce before looking down the hall towards where they were walking.

"Now that you mention it," Tony held his flashlight in his hand again as he picked up his pace towards the end of the hallway. "We were more distracted by the doors changing…" Bruce following close behind him as they came to a jog, seeming to not get any closer to the end of the hallway. Tony glanced up and began to notice the red security light appearing to continually cycle past them in 50 meter intervals, shining dully over and over as they jogged. Along with the cramp forming in his side, Tony began to get a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and he slowed back to a halt, Bruce following his lead. Glancing at Bruce, he slowly turned around on his heel to look behind them. In front of them stood the open doorway leading to the same control room they had left several minutes earlier. The red light in the ceiling of the room flashing quickly as though the bulb was beginning to go out.

"I…" Tony's voice trailed off as Bruce turned around.

"..but we…" Bruce trailed in turn as his mouth hung open. The light began flickering worse than before until it burned out completely, leaving only the two dull beams of their flashlights to shine the room in front of them.

"I think we have a bigger problem than the stairs," Tony finally finished.

"Clearly," Bruce agreed wholeheartedly. "Either we've fallen asleep and this is an insane _dream_, or we've both coincidentally lost our goddamn minds."

"Or both."


	3. 3: Clint

"Clearly, the elevators are out of the question," Clint pointed out almost absentmindedly as the pair rounded the corner of the long hallway, having left Tony and Bruce behind. "At least we aren't going _up_."

"Good point," Steve agreed, despite his physique as they reached the heavy metal door to the stairwell. "9 stories up sounds nightmare-ish." Stopping dead for a moment after the door opened, they stared into the stairwell. The only light that they could see was one small red emergency light just above their door, the stairs themselves bathed in darkness. On top of the dark, the stairwell had a cool chill wafting towards them, along with a soft, unintelligible whisper coming from somewhere below. Practically holding their breath and exchanging quick glances, Steve ventured forwards a few steps onto the floor's main landing. Eyes flicking towards the flight going up, he moved towards the ones receding downwards into the darkness. Squinting in the dark, he saw the very faint glow coming from around the corner of the wall, indicating the next main landing had a small red light, too. Wetting his lips slightly, he called out towards the whispering.

"Hello? Who's there?" He demanded before remembering other people, in fact, did inhabit this tower. "Are you alright?" The whispering stopped, and silence surrounded the boys. Stepping as lightly and quietly as he could, Clint stepped towards Steve.

_THUD._

Both men jumped and spun around, Steve inhaling sharply as they realized the noise only came from the door shutting behind Clint.

"_Oops," _Clint whispered quietly, glancing at Steve before turning his attention to the downwards stairs. "Hello!" He called, more loudly, getting a queazy feeling in his stomach about the source of the whispering. "Is anybody there!" Only silence followed his voice, the cool air bringing goosebumps to the men's skin. Gripping his phone tightly in his hand, Clint remembered the flashlight in his other hand, realizing for the first time since entering the stairwell that it was off. Eyebrows furrowing he squinted in the dim light at the switch. Tugging it the other way with his thumb, he watched as nothing happened. He did it again, putting it in the position it had been before. Still nothing.

"That's…weird…" he observed softly, trying each position of the switch over and over again only to have nothing happen.

"Guess we're stuck with phone flashlights, then?" Steve asked, digging his out of his pocket again and turning on the flashlight. Immediately squinting at the brightness of the light, Steve searched the stairs and landing below them for anything out of the ordinary as his eyes adjusted. Clint sat the flashlight against the wall on the floor, uncaring about it anymore as he turned the flashlight on his phone as well. Shining it on the landing they were standing on, Clint suddenly found himself incredibly anxious as to what might be on the stairs going _up._ Hesitating, he slowly made his way around Steve, keeping his elbow firmly anchored to his side to keep his hand from shaking as he shone the light on the steps leading upwards. Exhaling slowly, Clint looked over at Steve and walked back to his left, ready to head down the stairs.

"If anyone's down there, I guess we'll find them," he whispered quietly, deciding it felt very wrong to speak normally for some reason.

"No kidding," Steve whispered back, seemingly agreeing to the feeling Clint never had to voice out loud. Both flashlights pointed downwards, the men took their first real steps towards the basement; towards Tasha.

The first five or so sets of stairs were taken very slowly and cautiously, as though they expected to find someone or be attacked at any possible moment. Once they reached the bottom of the 6th stair, however, they were in the basement. They had only gone three stories down, but now Clint was starting to not care if they ran into anyone - or any_thing_. He had to find Natasha, and they had already wasted enough time. Picking up the pace tremendously, Clint gripped his phone tighter so as not to drop it, shining the light in front of him still. Falling behind for a moment, Steve quickly caught up, almost surprised by the faster pace down.

"Clint," Steve asked urgently, "What exactly is going to happen here? Either we find the floor that doesn't exist, or we don't-"

"We _will_," Clint insisted.

"Okay… So _when_ we find this floor, what then? We aren't exactly _armed_. We're going into this completely blind, we should slow down and think of a _plan_!" Steve's pace slowed slightly and Clint only went faster down the stairs. Clint didn't even stop to notice that Steve had fallen over a flight of stairs behind, focusing only on getting down the last 5 flights of stairs as fast as possible to find her. "Clint!"

He ignored him.

"_Clint!" _Steve's voice seemed louder, still directly behind him. "Wait!" Still, Clint ignored him. '_Only two more flights of stairs,_' Clint thought desperately, panting at this point. '_One more! Just… one… mo—'_

"_Stop!" _A foreign female voice whispered, the sound echoing loudly, seemingly surrounding Clint as he skid to a stop in front of a downwards set of stairs. _The_ flight of stairs: to the 7th floor, the one that didn't exist. It was then that Clint realized that he was alone. The only light around was that from his own phone's flashlight, he didn't even hear Steve's footsteps echo through the stairwell. Everything was silent, and he was _alone_.

The tight, queazy feeling in his stomach was back as he tried to calm his breathing to try and listen for any sign of Steve following him. Surely he wouldn't have just _left_, right? He may have been irritated that Clint was ignoring him and charging into a dangerous situation with no plan, but he wouldn't have just _left._

_Bzzzt!_

Simultaneously nearly having a heart attack and almost dropping his phone at the sudden vibration, he looked at the screen with shaking fingers.

_[2 Msg: Nat]_

Inhaling sharper than he meant to, Clint coughed softly as he fumbled to open his phone, the world around him suddenly unimportant.

_[4:18, Nat] Itp_

_[4:18, Nat] It went 2steps caerful_

Clint immediately began typing his reply- she was _alive! _

_[Draft 4:18, to Nat] Tash I'm coming r you still there,! _

Before he could send, his phone dropped from his hands as he was suddenly whisked straight off his feet and into the air upside down. Gasping for air after the initial shock, he was spun around, coming face to face with what looked like an oversized skull with white, translucent-looking skin stretched too far over it. It was missing its eyes, dark pits where they should have been, and a large mouth stretching nearly from ear to ear. The mouth was open as if in a demented smile, its razor-sharp looking teeth long and still dripping with blood from a previous meal. Hot, sticky feeling breath hit his face reeking of blood as it just stared at him. The creature was so tall that it had to hunch over, each vertebra and rib visible through it's too-tight skin. Too terrified to even move, Clint stared wide-eyed at the creature's mouth. A sudden pain filled Clint's leg as though five large daggers had pierced through his pants and skin. Calling out in pain, he could feel the blood as it began to rush up his leg.

A dark, low, rumbling laughter seemed to emanate from the creature holding him by the leg. Its grip tightened and the pain only got worse.

"_Not….good….enough, Clinton…." _A low voice of the creature echoed around him without it even having to move its mouth. There was a pause just long enough for Clint to let out a soft groan of pain before the creature chucked him down the final flight of steps. Clint heard a loud thud, which he could only assume was himself as he hit the landing below, and the same dark laugher echoing around him as everything slowly faded to black.


	4. 4: Thor

_A/N: Reviews would be very much appreciated, as they let me know if people like the direction I'm headed in. They also let me know where I can improve and what I'm doing well! Please and thank you for reading this far, and I hope you all enjoy! -E_

* * *

Pressing the button on the side of the phone to turn the screen back off, Thor sighed in the darkness of his apartment. Pausing for a moment as if deciding how to proceed, he turned the screen of his phone back on, pressing down firmly on one corner of the phone to turn the flashlight on. Blinking and then squinting in the sudden light, he quickly looked for a pair of socks and shoes to put on before leaving. "Something" loose in the tower would have been strange enough without Natasha being _missing_ from the tower. And the fact that she had gone missing from her own apartment? Stranger and stranger still. Thor tugged on a pair of thick black socks before shoving his feet lazily into his shoes, his breakfast on the kitchen counter now completely forgotten about. Setting down his phone quickly on his bed, Thor pulled a sweatshirt over his head and slid his arms through, pressing his lips together slightly. He knew he ought to be more worried for Natasha's sake, yet something about the entire situation seemed… More off than just a simple missing person, even if it was her. Tony hadn't exactly made any effort to describe this "thing" that seemed to be running around the tower, and Thor wasn't sure what to think. Part of him wanted to believe that this whole thing was simply a trick or a joke. That seemed like something that Tony would do. Would he be so extravagant to kill the lights in Thor's apartment, though? Were they even out in the entire tower? He tried glancing out his darkened bedroom window but couldn't see anything outside. Sighing again and picking the phone off his bed, he figured he may as well go and check things out, just in case.

Shining the light from his phone, Thor made his way to his front door. Ignoring the keys next to the door, he headed out, not bothering to lock his door behind him. The trip over to the Barton's apartment was short, just a few short halls and down a single flight of stairs and he stood at their front door, feeling a little ridiculous. The lights may be out in the entire tower - or least of all the parts near him - but that didn't mean Tony was telling the truth… If he broke into their apartment and they were in the middle of sleeping, that could end very poorly for all three of them. He could picture the misunderstandings and fight ensuing as he tried to explain what he was doing there. Shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, he shone his light down both sides of the hall, deciding what to do next.

Hadn't he been here before a thousand times in his life with Loki? Hadn't he been the butt of every single trick or joke that he ever pulled, making him look like a complete fool? What was he _doing_ here? Was he going to be made look like a giant idiot in front of everyone _again_? Had he learned _nothing_ over the last several centuries? Thor stood, motionless for several long seconds as he argued with himself silently.

Deciding it was better than doing nothing, he decided knocking loudly first would be a good first course of action. Pausing, he called out their names, knuckles still against the door.

"Clinton!" He paused, listening intently to the silence. "Natasha!" He knocked louder, his knuckles stinging slightly from the impact on the heavy wooden door. He tried several times to jiggle the knob to open it, but it refused to budge. Rocking back on his feet slightly as he was met still with only silence, Thor stuck his tongue in his cheek as he thought of what to do. After several quiet moments seeming to last forever, he stepped backwards into the hall, turning the flashlight on his phone off and stuffing it in his pocket. "Fine," he sighed, rolling his sleeves higher up his forearms, stepping back and forth quickly between both feet as though preparing to run. "Stark, have it your way."

With only a second's hesitation, Thor charged, yelling, shoulder first into the wood door, cracking it into several large pieces and falling to the floor, Thor falling with it. Grunting softly, Thor brushed himself off and got to his feet, squinting around in the darkness. Pulling the phone back out of his pocket, he turned his light back on, wincing slightly from the sudden brightness.

"Clinton? Natasha?" He called again, hoping still that this would all be some joke. As he made his way further through the apartment, however, he got the edging suspicion that this may be all too real. "It's me, Thor! I'm, uh, sorry if I've woken you— and, um, about your door,— which Stark promised he would fix, by the way!" Thor called out, just in case they were here. He got no reply. Swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat, he continued, shining his light over every possible surface, looking for… Anything, he supposed. He wasn't exactly sure what he should be looking for, other than signs of forced entry (besides his own). As far as he could tell, everything seemed normal and where he assumed things should be. Walking into the doorway of the bedroom, he paused. "Guys, Stark said the funniest thing, sorry to wake you, but—" stopping mid sentence, he had pointed his light towards the empty bed. There, he noted that the linens were half on the floor, one of the pillows dangling off the side. The charging stand for Clint's hearing aids was knocked onto the floor and the dresser had clothes spilling out of it, as though someone had quickly and accidentally grabbed more than one thing and never bothered to put the rest back in neatly. None of this seemed half as alarming to Thor, however, as the deep black scorch marks his phone illuminated. Stretching from the ceiling to the carpet in the corner of the room, Thor realized very quickly that he recognized the pattern the marks had made on the walls, he had seen them dozens of times in the past. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion as to what it would be doing _here_… His confusion very quickly turned to panic, however, when he realized what this would mean. Spinning on his heel, Thor searched the room quickly, his eyes wide.

"_Clinton! Natasha!" _He called, much more urgently than he had before, taking off back into the empty apartment, searching any possible spot he could have missed that they could have been hiding (if that were even possible).

Reaching the splintered door again and with shaking hands, Thor dialed Tony's number. Squinting up and down the hall as he entered it, he waited for the call to go through.

"_Odinsssssssssssonnnn…._" A deep, dark voice whispered, surrounding him in the otherwise silent building. Inhaling sharply, Thor spun around, his phone slipping from his fingers and onto the floor with a loud thud. Staring, unblinking at the dark pits for eyes the creature had against its too-pale skin, Thor froze as its hot breath hit his face. After a few seconds, he could hear Tony's quiet voice from his phone.

"_Thor! Got any news for us, buddy?" _There was a pause and the creature grinned, its pointed teeth illuminated from the phone light below them. "_Thor! Hello? Are you there?"_ The creature let out a low laugh before taking a step forward, its large foot with claws instead of toes crushing the phone beneath it. Its cold hand gripped Thor's throat tightly and began to squeeze as Thor struggled against it, finally seeming to remember how to move again.

"Let — me— _GO!" _He struggled to get out, trying to dig his short nails into its already bloodied claws to get it to let go. "You know — who I — am!" The world was starting to dim further and his head was starting to spin. Thor coughed roughly. "I know—" he coughed again. "—Your—" Gasping for breath, Thor felt a rush fall over him as he lost consciousness in the creature's grip.


	5. 5: Bruce

Bruce couldn't feel him. The other guy. He knew that it didn't really make any sense, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't feel the "hulk's" presence anywhere in his body, let alone his mind. Part of him knew that this was wrong. This wasn't right. For some reason, though, this thought kept getting pushed aside and he couldn't seem to figure out why. Not feeling him… _Was_ weird… Wasn't it? Bruce's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he thought, his head beginning to ache as he did so. '_No_,' he scolded himself. '_Focus on what's going on!'_ Looking at Tony quickly in the dim lights of their flashlights, he pressed his lips tightly together, worry clear on his face.

"So?" Bruce asked after a few moments of silence. "Any new ideas?"

"Uh, yeah, working on that," Tony informed him, though Bruce had the suspicion that his mind was about as blank as Bruce's was when it came to what to _possibly_ do next. "So where are we? We uh…"

"We couldn't get to the stairs, for… Whatever reason. The hallway seemed to _magically somehow_ extend itself to no end."

"Which is—"

"Impossible, yes," Bruce's head was hurting more and more by the passing minute.

"—and the doors have no handles, which is—"

"Also impossible."

"Right," Tony finally glanced at Bruce, looking as confused and freaked out as Bruce felt. "So do you remember tripping on acid or any other sort of hallucinogenic before or after starting up Mario Kart?"

"Not that I can recall, no," Bruce licked his lips to wet them.

"Perfect," Tony concluded, spinning around and pointing his light down the way they had came as though he just remembered that their backs were entirely exposed. Jumping slightly, Bruce turned to look behind them, too, sighing softly when he saw nothing.

"D-did you _hear_ something?" Bruce asked, hoping that he didn't.

"Not a damn thing," Tony admitted, his face screwing up at the thought. "Not a single damn thing."

"So it isn't just me?" Bruce asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Nnnnope," Tony turned back to face forwards again, regripping the light in his hand. "Not just you…"

'_You can't feel him,' _a voice in Bruce's head sounded suddenly, causing him to jump again. Straightening his back, he laughed almost awkwardly.

"Shivers," he explained quickly, giving Tony a small smile to which Tony nodded at. It _was_ weird, wasn't it? Bruce urged his mind to remember _why_, though… Wasn't… Wasn't there only one other time he had felt this way? When _was it_? All thought of the Hulk immediately seemed to vanish from Bruce's mind again as Tony spoke.

"So I figure," Tony paused as he scratched the back of his neck lightly. "We have about three options. We could _a_, keep trying to get to the stairs?" Tony's face screwed up again at the weird idea that they were unable to get to them in the first place. "Or b, go back to the control room and wait to see if any sort of miracle happens and the backup power generators come up by themselves."

"You _know_ that's not how they work," It was his turn to make a face. "That was only two. What was the third option?"

"Go back upstairs, pretend none of this ever happened and go to sleep?" Tony offered with a sheepish grin. Sighing heavily, Bruce rubbed at one of his temples with his fingers. "I'm taking that as a no-go on option c?"

"You got it," Bruce didn't even look at him. Trying to form a solid plan with Tony was usually difficult under normal conditions. But under conditions that questioned the very fabric of their reality? It was seeming more impossible with every passing second. Stifling a yawn behind the back of his free hand, Bruce rubbed roughly at his cheek under his eye. He was already exhausted, they had stayed up all night after all. He _had_ been hoping to be in bed before 5 am, but clearly that idea was more of a dream than anything he'd be getting in the near future.

"So? What do you think?" Tony didn't bother to hide his own yawn as he watched Bruce. Bruce thought for what felt like hours before finally pushing back his shoulders to stretch his back, sighing yet again.

"Waiting would probably be _worse_," he pointed out, annoyance clear in his voice for a moment before he cleared his throat. "We should just… Try again, I guess?" Extending one arm towards the direction the stairs were _supposedly_ in, Tony 'allowed him' to go first.

"After you!"

"Oh, I'm so glad," Bruce replied, voice full of sarcasm. Stepping past Tony, he held the light in his hand as steady as he could manage, ignoring the walls and doors on them entirely this time, hoping that it would make a difference.

"I knew you would be," Tony shot back as he followed quickly behind.

"I'm just going to ignore the doors this time," Bruce informed Tony, thinking maybe if they _both_ ignored them, then they wouldn't be real.

"That's an idea," Tony said slowly, his eyebrows coming together as if trying to figure out _why, _but he seemed to copy him anyway.

Within just a few moments and a turn in the hall, the pair stopped dead in their tracks, standing directly in front of the door leading to the stairwell. Holding his breath, Bruce glanced out of the corner of his eye at Tony, seeing that his shock was mirrored on Tony's face. Slowly reaching out towards the door's push bar, Tony's fingers brushed ever so slightly against the metal of the bar. Letting out a large sigh of relief, he relaxed, Bruce following in suit.

"_Holyshitit'sreal,_" he breathed, turning to grin at Bruce as he pushed the bar in to open the door. Stepping into the cool stairwell, Bruce shivered and brought his elbows tight against his sides. At least they had another red security light over their heads- it was _something_ at least besides their own small beams. "How many floors again?"

"Down eight," Bruce told him, his voice echoing in the stairwell and the pair quickly began to descend down the stairs to the basement levels. After several flights of stairs, they heard a door open somewhere below them. Slowing down their pace, they stopped and listened.

"Clint!" Steve's voice sounded from below. "Clint is that you?" Glancing at each other in the dim red light, their faces matched in confusion.

"Steve?" Bruce called back, continuing his way down the stairs.

"Did you _lose_ Barton?" Tony asked, following quickly down.

"Wh- _Damn it_," They heard Steve mutter quietly to himself, his voice echoed slightly by the stairwell. After a few moments, the pair stopped short so as not to run straight into Steve, very clearly lacking his Clint. "I was hoping the sound I heard was him." He explained quickly, glancing up the stairs before looking back at the two.

"How did you get separated?"

"He ran off ahead," Steve had a mixture of annoyance and concern on his face, as though he couldn't decide which he should be. "I _thought_ I'd just find him somewhere on the bottom floor, but I searched the whole thing and didn't see him anywhere. So, I've been looking for him." Brows furrowing together, Bruce looked at Tony before focusing back on Steve.

"And… Obviously, this bottom floor was B-6, right?"

"Yeah," Steve ran his fingers through his hair quickly. "No B-7."

"I tried telling him," Tony pointed out. "So alright, now we've got _two_ missing Bartons?"

"It would seem—" The three men jumped as Bruce was cut off by the seemingly deafening ring of Tony's phone. Turning it slightly in his hand so he could see the screen as he simultaneously shut off the sound, Tony's face lit up.

"Thor! Maybe we can get some answers, see if anything was up in the apartment." Answering the call, he turned on the speakerphone and spoke loudly into the mic. "Thor! Got any news for us, buddy?" He paused, but there was no answer. The men exchanged glances, listening to the silence. "…Thor?" More silence. "Hello? Are you there?" Bruce could hear a tinge of worry in Tony's voice now.

All at once there was a low sound- almost like a laugh coming from the speaker. The trio froze as they heard a crunch and watched the screen as the call lost its connection.

"….That sounded good…." Bruce finally spoke up, the three of them still staring at the phone as it dimmed before the screen shut off completely, timing out.

"That _sounded_ like this problem might be escalating," Steve corrected him. "And _quickly_."

"I think it might be safe to say that we should be doing _no more splitting up_," Tony added on.

"I can agree to that!" Bruce smiled weakly, it fading almost immediately into a grimace. There was a pause as they tried to decide how to go about this mess of a situation. "So who do we try and find first? Or do we still try and get the power on first?"

"We don't know if they have enough time for us to get the lights on first," Steve pointed out matter-of-factly. "We should probably go for the Bartons first, we're closest to them. Thor is over 20 floors above us, so for now at least, he'll have to be on his own." Bruce watched as Steve pressed his lips together tightly as if the thought pained him to say out loud. He was very thankful, however, to have someone who knew how to form plans with them this time to make things go at least a little bit smoother.

"Good luck, buddy," Tony said, looking up at the ceiling before turning his attention back towards the other two. "You said you checked the entire bottom floor?" Twisting around and shining his flashlight towards the wall to look for the floor number, Bruce could almost visibly see the gears working in Tony's head.

"Tony," he warned and Steve looked between the two of them.

"What?"

"Tony we need to find them first," Bruce said quickly.

"But we're _on the right floor_," Tony looked at Bruce, an almost wild look in his eye. It was the kind of look he _always had_ before he did something stupid and got them into trouble.

"_Tony,_" he pressed more firmly, hoping Steve would back him up before his resolve failed him, as it nearly always did.  
"How long would it take?" Steve asked instead, his eyes trained on Tony, his face unreadable. Bruce felt his stomach drop. This was wrong. This was all so, so wrong. He felt as though his tongue were suddenly made of lead, leaving him unable to voice his concerns but somehow, he knew… This isn't how this was supposed to happen, it-

"Less than 10 minutes," He heard Tony say, but his voice sounded far away, despite him standing right next to Bruce. He could feel his panic growing. "5, tops." There was a pause.

"Alright, let's do it." Steve decided. "But _quickly_."

_This was all wrong._


	6. 6: Thor

Groaning softly, Thor was suddenly overcome with a fit of coughs, his throat burning as he sat upright. Eyes flashing open, he immediately was unsure whether he opened his eyes at all. As the coughing subsided, Thor shut his eyes tightly and opened them once more. He held his eyes open wide as he turned his body to look around, as turning his neck hurt too much, still unable to make out anything in the darkness. A small sniffle to his left nearly made him jump out of his skin and he swore loudly, backing away from the noise until very quickly his back was pressed against a cool, solid surface. At the sudden use of his voice, he began to cough again for what seemed like hours before he was able to get it under control again. His throat felt as though it were on fire. There was small moment of silence before a woman's voice spoke to him.

"…Thor?" It whispered. Blinking pointlessly, his eyebrows furrowed together. Was that…?

"_Natasha_?" He gaped quietly, his voice hoarse and still seeming too loud in his ears in comparison to the darkness around them.

"Shit," he heard her whisper. "It got you, too?" Thor found himself about to nod, forgetting for a moment that there would be no way for her to see.

"I thought with it in the tower you would've been dead," he whispered back, relief clear in his voice. After a moment, there was a flood of light and Thor winced, motioning to back up again away from it and only succeeding in hitting his head on the wall behind him. Squinting in the light, he realized it was Natasha's phone. As she set the phone on the floor between them, he grinned slightly. Her hair was down her back in a curled mess, and she was still in her night clothes (an old t-shirt and shorts) but she looked unharmed. Natasha didn't reciprocate the smile, however, and instead looked alarmed, her eyes focused on his throat.

"Did _it_ do that to you?" She whispered, gesturing slightly in the dark. Thor nodded and bit the inside of his cheek as a fresh stab of pain surged through his neck. "God. What _was _that thing? I've never seen anything like it." There was a pause as Thor wet his lips, looking away into the darkness as he tried to decide how to proceed. He could feel Natasha's eyes on him, still. "Thor?"  
"It…" Thor began cautiously. He knew the rules. Mortals weren't supposed to know about _them_. They weren't supposed to know their names, what their presence meant. There was another moment of silence.

"Do you know what that thing was?" She pressed, eyes never leaving his face for a second, studying him.

Thor felt an almost immediate sense of relief wash over him as a sound came from somewhere behind Natasha before it was replaced just as quickly with extreme dread. He hadn't realized that there was a door behind her until Natasha backed quickly away from it to sit next to him, grabbing her phone and putting out the light. After a few seconds, Thor could make out the faintest light from underneath the door. Coming from the other side was a heavy, wet dragging noise… and it was coming closer. Stopping as it reached the other side of the door, there was a scraping sound, as though the someone were dragging their nails up the door towards the doorknob.

The door swung open and in the doorway stood the creature, having to bend its back to see into the small closet that Thor and Natasha sat in. In the dim red light of the hallway behind it, they could smell the metallic blood before they saw it. Blood had been dripping all down the front of the creature, and it looked as though it were still fresh, the light still reflecting off of the dark liquid. Thor felt Natasha stiffen beside him, a small gasp passing between her lips. It wasn't until the creature brought its long arm forwards that he saw what had been making the dragging noise. Holding up the limp body of Clint an inch above the floor, Thor found that he could only stare, his mouth hanging open slightly as it dropped Clint into the closet with them. Neither daring to move or now take their eyes off of the creature, the two sat helplessly as the creature let a dark, rumbling laugh echo through the hall around it. It seemed to swell with what could only be described as a sick pleasure at the sight of their horror. The door swung shut again and they could hear it slowly walking back down the hallway.

After a few moments, the two sprang into action, Natasha once more lighting her phone, shoving it into Thor's hands as she examined her husband. Thor found it hard to say anything at all, knowing that he was probably dead. Still, he held the phone up for her to see. There was a large gash on Clint's forehead, the pale skin already deeply bruised around it. His nose had been bloodied, yet had had time to dry… How long had he been like this? One of his arms was also darkly bruised, going up under the short sleeve of his shirt towards his shoulder, which appeared as though it had been roughly dislocated from its socket. The worst injury - as far as Thor could tell and in terms of looks - was his leg. It looked as though someone had taken massive chunks from his calf, ripping the skin down towards his ankle. Large portions of skin were missing from the leg, revealing instead the muscle, and in some more unlucky portions, the bone within.

The closet now reeked of blood, and Thor occasionally found himself holding his breath, so as not to breathe it in anymore. Watching Natasha was easier than looking at the leg, which Thor was having trouble not staring at. Natasha held her ear to Clint's lower face, unmoving and not breathing as she listened for signs of life. One of her shaking hands was held to the side of his neck, two fingers pressed against the artery, feeling desperately for a pulse. After a few moments, she seemed to relax slightly, breathing a long sigh of relief.

"_He's alive_," she whispered, immediately setting to work. Thor watched as Natasha tore a long piece off of Clint's shirt, wrapping it very tightly around his leg, above where the deep tears started. "It probably thought that he was dead, or else I doubt it would've looked so pleased."

"I agree," Thor whispered back, glancing back at the closed door. "We should probably keep it that way. If it thinks he's alive…" his voice trailed off and Natasha finished for him, taking the phone again.

"It'll probably come back to finish him off." Natasha put her hand on Clint's face and held open one of his eyes with her thumb, shining the light into his eye. Repeating the process to the other eye, she paused. Gently and repeatedly, she tapped one of his cheeks and whispered in his ear. "Clint! Clint, wake up!"


	7. 7: Tony

**_CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains some graphic details that readers may find disturbing. The content begins in the chapter that starts with ****, and will end with another ****. Thank you. -E_**

* * *

Rushing down a long hallway, all three men held up the flashlights on their phones to see in front of them. Even the emergency lights on this floor were off, leaving the underground hall in an eerie darkness. Trying to remember exactly which door was the correct door, Tony cursed under his breath.

"Bruce, remind me to condense this shit to one room," he said offhandedly, "and _somewhere easier to get to_."

"No kidding," Bruce replied almost timidly. Steve remained silent beside them as they walked quickly through the building. "Wasn't it.. B4-63?" Tony glanced at several of the door plaques illuminated by Bruce's light.

"Something….Like that…" Tony agreed as they passed 58...59…60. They were getting closer.

"Wait!" Steve stopped suddenly, looking at both of them, a strange expression on his face. Tony and Bruce jumped slightly at the noise and turned to look at him incredulously.

"For what? We don't have a lot of time-" Tony began but Steve only cut him off.

"This isn't right, we-" pausing slightly, Steve furrowed his brows together. "I was wrong, we should try and find the others first! They could be hurt!" Blinking in both surprise and confusion, Tony stared at him.

"And we'll be much more help to them in the _light_ than we would in the dark," Tony informed him quickly.

"Weren't you the one who was just agreeing, saying we should get the power back on first?" Bruce asked suspiciously, his tone almost indicating that he was insulted that Steve hadn't backed him up when it mattered.

"No- Yes, but no. I mean," Steve stammered, trying to justify his sudden change of heart. "I mean shouldn't we keep looking for Clint? He could be anywhere and-"

"After we get the lights," Tony stated firmly, glancing at Bruce as he began to walk backwards in the direction of what he hoped was the right door. As he moved backwards, his stomach lurched at the expression that took over Steve's face. In a single instant, his face had gone from almost worried to an extreme expression of hatred and disgust.

"_Not that way_," Steve spoke harshly, in a voice that seemed oddly distorted from how it should've been. Stumbling slightly backwards in surprise, Tony turned to make a run for the 63rd door, Bruce close behind him. Both of them didn't bother to check if Steve was chasing them: they could hear that he was. Somehow reaching the doorway without being caught, Tony was relieved to see a normal doorknob, thanking himself that not _all _of them had been electronic doors. Fumbling with the doorknob as Bruce nearly ran into him, he flung the door open and the two clambered inside, shutting and locking it behind them. To their surprise (not only that they had made it into the room with Steve Rogers, super human, running behind them), the hallway outside the door was completely silent. There was no banging to let him in, no sound of footsteps walking or running in the hall, nothing. Making sure the door was locked just in case, Tony made to light up the room with his phone, realizing it was no longer in his hand.

"_Shit_. I must've dropped my phone out there."

Bruce lit his flashlight again, having turned it off by accident in the hustle. Turning to the newly illuminated room, Tony felt the air in his lungs rush out all at once, immediately feeling sick to his stomach. As if in response to how he felt, he heard Bruce retch off to the side with his phone falling to the floor, covering them in darkness again. After a moment, Tony regained his composure and stooped to grab the phone off of the floor as Bruce continued to be sick. Swallowing a hard lump in his throat, he slowly turned the light back up to face the room.

There, a few feet from them, was Steve, laying on his back with his eyes closed.

****Or, what seemed to be _left_ of Steve, anyway. While Steve had been wearing a t-shirt and shorts, Tony could no longer tell where one began and where one ended, or even the color that they used to be. Covering the majority of his body were deep third-degree burns. Around the edges of the burns, the blackened skin was peeling and flaking away, the insides of the burns raw and still bleeding. In more than one location around his ribs, he could see straight to the fatty tissue layers. Around his hips, he could see bits of bone peeking through the burned tissue. On his arms, he could see tendons through the blackened skin.****

His entire body, though Tony assumed he was dead and knew that meant he would be cold, was still giving off heat. Despite Tony crouching several feet away, his face and arms felt warm. Or, perhaps, that was just from the blood and adrenaline that was now coursing through his body. After a few moments, Bruce was able to steady himself, kneeling next to Tony and not facing the body.

"_What... the _hell... _happened?_" Bruce asked shakily and swallowed audibly. At that moment, Steve took a gasping breath, his eyes opening.

"Shit!" Tony nearly yelled as he fell backwards onto his ass, hand tightening around the phone so he wouldn't drop this one, too. Bruce had inhaled so quickly and so harshly that he, too, began to cough, one hand over his chest, the other behind himself on the floor to remain steady. Steve began to cough violently, unable to move. Inching forwards hesitantly, Tony's eyes were wide as he watched blood dribble from Steve's lips. Blinking hard, he felt tears forming. "S...Steve?" Slowly, Steve managed to stop coughing, his eyes unmoving from the ceiling, as though he couldn't move them at all. He drew a raspy breath in before managing to speak.

"K...Kill… Me.." he croaked out, suppressing another coughing fit.

"Wh-" Bruce began before immediately faltering away. Tony was silent for a few moments as the first few tears began to streak down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Tony managed to choke out, more tears falling. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't." Steve began to cough again, each one sounding as though fluid was building in his lungs, more blood pooling behind his head from his mouth.

"Then…. Leave m-me… Save…" Steve coughed harder, droplets of blood were beginning to speckle Tony's face and clothes. It was getting increasingly difficult for Steve to get any oxygen in, let alone stop the coughing. "S-save… Team."

"We will," Tony promised him. "We'll find whoever did this and-" The coughing had stopped. Tony's eyes flicked from Steve's burned and bleeding chest to his face, more tears forming rapidly in the corners of his eyes. Tony knew then that he had passed on. There was a loud sniffle from behind Tony, letting him know that Bruce was still there. After a long few moments, Tony continued, to Bruce this time. "We'll save them. We'll do it for Steve."

Crawling forwards on hand and knee, Bruce came to sit with Tony near the body, putting his hand in Tony's. Tony squeezed it as he looked Bruce in the face. If Bruce looked even half as awful as Tony felt… But they had no time to dwell on it. If they were going to find the others in time… They needed to move. Now.

Exhaling slowly, Tony got to his feet, helping Bruce up in turn. Letting go of his hand, Tony hesitantly moved around the body to the machines across the room.

"Bruce can… Can you hold..?" Tony glanced back at Bruce, avoiding looking at the body between them. There was a moment of recognition in Bruce's eyes as he too moved around the body to come and take the phone from Tony. Turning back towards the machines, Tony looked for the root of the power failure, hoping it wouldn't be too difficult to get it back and running. After a few minutes of looking and trying different levers and buttons, something caught Tony's attention, causing him to stop and stare.

"So, um," he began, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not 100% certain… But I think I figured out why the power went out."

"Really? Can we fix-" Tony gave Bruce's shirt a tug towards him and Bruce stumbled forwards. Bruce followed Tony's stare and put a hand over his mouth. The entire back end of one of the generators had been completely torn apart. The cords were thrashed, as though ripped apart by hand - which would be incredible, seeing as some of them were in bundles that were nearly a foot in diameter. One of the wires sparked, causing the men to flinch back.

"Some of them are still _live_…" Tony swallowed hard. "This is… This is bad."

"Worse than bad," Bruce refused to take his eyes off of the wire that had sparked as though it could blow up at any second and his staring alone held it at bay.

"We need to evacuate the tower."

"What is it about this situation that seems to make you think that?" Bruce asked, a surprising amount of sarcasm in his voice given the circumstances. "The dark thing in the bedroom? Two people missing? The murder of our friend?" Bruce began rattling off different things that were incredibly wrong before adding quietly, "...lord knows how he even GOT like that in the first place…"

"Bruce-"

"What… What about the fact that _Steve had been in the hallway with us before we came in here?"_ All at once, Tony felt breathless again as there was a soft noise behind the door that sat closed across the room. The pair looked at each other and then down at the body of their friend behind them before turning their attention to the door. Bruce faced his light to the door, his knuckles white as he gripped it so it wouldn't fall again. They stood, motionless and holding their breath, listening as the noise came again, a little louder than before.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._


	8. 8: Clint

There was a loud hissing noise before the cool, fresh air opened around him. Inhaling deeply, Steve opened his eyes and watched as the pod of his simulation chamber slowly opened from above him, allowing him to sit up. Signing heavily, he brought one knee to his chest, wrapping an arm around it lazily. Six large screens were on the wall at the foot of his chamber, the one directly in front of him now turned off. He knew it _had_ been on. In fact, it was probably only just shut off moments before his pod opened. But there was nothing to see anymore: he had died. A smaller screen located under each of the large ones showed details of that particular person's "status": it showed what parts of the body were injured on a small human shaped outline, gave details of current issues the person was facing, their vital signs… Steve's outline had been cut repeatedly and darkened where he knew he had been burned in the simulation. Grimacing slightly at the memory, realization suddenly washed over him. Steve sat up more straight, dropping one leg over the side of his pod.

"Wait," he commented to no one in particular, knowing that the majority of the people in the room were unconsciously 'playing' in their own simulation chambers. "How did _I _manage to die first?" It sounded cocky when he said the words outloud, but he felt as though he had a point. He _never _died first in their simulations.

"Maybe it knew you were the biggest threat," a small voice with the hints of an English accent sounded from somewhere behind him, causing Steve to jump. A woman laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. She was the only other person in the room, making a few adjustments to the control panels on his pod.

"What was that?" Steve asked her curiously.

"Oh," the woman paused, thinking as she lowered her hand and turned to face him. Her dark brown eyes met his as her blonde curls bounced softly with the movement. "Well, the simulation is like a game, isn't it? One that _wants _to win?"

"I guess," Steve considered what she had said, glancing over at the screens on the wall before looking back at her again.

"Well… It probably recognized that you were the biggest threat to it winning. You were the one who would be able to come up with the most logical plans and get everyone to work together best." The woman shrugged, turning back to her work on his pod, her tone sounding increasingly thoughtful. "I guess it decided that the best course of action was to distract you and take you out."

"I… _guess so,_" Steve furrowed his eyebrows together in thought as he turned to look at the screen as the woman finished.

"It made your partner vanish, ruined your plans, threw everything off. It distracted you, and then took you out." Something about the woman's tone sent a cool shiver down Steve's back.

"Well, you probably wouldn't do much better if-" Steve had begun to turn around to face the woman again, but she was gone, the room empty again.

Pausing for a long moment, Steve tried to determine whether he had made up the woman entirely in his head, a possible side-effect from just waking up from the simulation.

_Shhhkk!_

A large metal door across the room slid open, a tall man appearing in the doorway. His dark skin contrasting perfectly with the white of his labcoat, he cleared his throat softly.

"Mr. Rogers?" Steve looked at him curiously. "Did you plan on staying to watch the rest of the simulation? Could I set out the couch?"

"Oh!" Steve hopped up off of his pod, stretching his legs and back. "I completely forgot that we had that installed." The man smiled and pressed a few buttons on a panel near the door. A large patch of floor between the simulation pods and the wall of screens slid away, revealing a couch slowly rising through a hole in the floor. As it locked into place, Steve walked around it, sitting down with a contented sigh. "Much better, thank you."

"Could I get you something to eat or drink?" The man offered, brushing a stray lock of his long hair behind his ear, the rest tied in a bun at the base of his head.

"Mmmaybe just a water for now?" Steve asked, tilting his head backwards to look at the man through the pods. Pausing, he immediately felt rude and moved to stand again. "But I could get it!"

"Nooo, no!" The man smiled, holding his hands up as if to stop Steve if he stood. "Please, allow me." Hesitating, Steve sat back in his seat again.

"Thank you, uh," his voice trailing off, he realized he didn't even know what the man's name was.

"Dr. Perr," The man's smile grew. "But you can call me Zane."

"Zane," Steve returned his smile warmly. "Nice to meet you, Zane."

There was a loud gasping noise coming from the wall of screens that made Steve jump in his seat slightly. Trying to identify which screen the noise had come from, he heard the door slide shut again.

"_Clint, thank god," _Natasha's hushed voice sounded from one of the screens.

* * *

A low groan escaped his lips as Clint laid his head back down on the floor of the closet, his eyes tightly shut. He had tried sitting up sharply, but the pain in both his arm and his leg kept him from sitting, so down again he went.

"Watch his arm," a hoarse voice that sounded just about as good as he felt instructed from beside him.

"Do you think that we could get it back in?" a voice Clint recognized instantly as Natasha's asked the other. Eyes flying open, Clint motioned to sit up again, immediately forgetting his pain until it brought him right back down to the floor again, his eyes tightly shut in pain. Grunting softly, he slowly opened his eyes, trying to adjust quickly as he could to the darkness in combination with the bright light of a flashlight shining directly at his face.

"Stopshhining at me…" his words slurred together slightly as he shut his eyes yet again.

"The flashlight," Natasha's voice whispered quickly and Clint felt the light move away from his face. That would be better.

"Sorry," the second voice he couldn't recognize said quickly. "Clint, can you hear us?" Clint nodded his head slowly to the voice, wincing in pain as he did. His breath caught in his throat causing him to cough. Searing pain shot through his arm with the movement, a small whimper escaping his lips.

"We have to do _something_ about his arm," Natasha's voice pressed again. The other person seemed to agree as Clint heard the sound of the phone being set on the ground. "Clint?" Natasha's voice was next to his ear, barely a whisper. Her breath tickled the side of his neck, making him shiver involuntarily. "Clint, we're going to try and get your arm back in its socket… You…" She let out a shaky breath as she paused. "You have to try not to make any noise. It thinks that you're dead, we have to keep it that way."

"I wish…" Clint grunted out softly, the small twist of a smile at his lips. "I wish that I was right about now…"

"Stop," she quickly scolded him before leaning away from his ear. "Okay… Thor, you push the arm in, I'll try and keep him steady." Clint winced again as he felt Natasha try to steady his body as best as she could. Clenching his good fist as tightly as he could, he prepared for the worst as he felt who he now knew was Thor - though he wasn't convinced by the voice - gingerly lifted his arm off of the floor.

"Oh, god," Clint mumbled quietly, shutting his eyes even more tightly and screwing up his face from the pain. "Just do it."

_Crunch!_

A white hot searing pain flooded through the left side of his body as Clint fought the urge to scream out. Pounding his fist against the floor, his good leg kicked out slightly, hitting the wall with a small thud.

"It's in! It's in, it's okay," Natasha's voice was back in his ear, her hand gently caressing his forehead, brushing away the beads of sweat forming at his temples.

"'In', maybe," Clint grunted, slowly opening his eyes and looking at the shadowed face of Natasha. He couldn't help the hint of a smile from showing on his lips. "But painful as all hell, definitely." He paused, eyes flicking over to the other person. Surprisingly, it was Thor. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw the darker markings around Thor's throat. That probably explained the voice.

"The same creature that mangled you," Thor smiled slightly, every word he spoke both looking and sounding painful.

"How'd it let you off looking so pretty?" Scoffing softly, Clint shook his head. "Can you guys help me sit up? I want to look at whatever's left of my leg…"

Natasha and Thor moved to make room as they both helped Clint sit up against one of the walls of the closet, Thor making sure to take extra care with the bad shoulder. Exhaling slowly as Clint examined his leg in the low light, he shook his head again.

"What d'you think, doc? Do we have to chop it?" He joked, looking between the others.

"_Clint_," Natasha warned, but something in her tone betrayed her, showing that she was relieved that he was still able to make jokes given the circumstances. "We have to figure out a way out of here." Looking between the two of them, Natasha held her hand out for her phone. "Let me see if I can contact the others. Do you think they'd be awake?" Thor nodded, making a face as he did so.

"As painful as it looks, I take it?" Clint watched Thor for a moment before looking at Natasha. "Everyone should be up. Tony and Bruce were going to go get the power back up and running-"

"The power is out?" Natasha interrupted, her eyebrows raised, looking at Thor for confirmation. "I thought maybe just the lights were out in the hallway outside…" Shaking his head, Clint continued.

"Whole building is out. We were checking security footage when it happened. Steve and I-" inhaling sharply, Clint caused himself to cough again. Covering his mouth quickly so he didn't make too much noise, his eyes widened. "Oh god, where's Steve. Oh, no." Leaning forwards slightly, his eyebrows furrowed upwards, Thor managed to question him.

"When did you last see him? Who was he with?" Shaking his head quickly, Clint's hand moved to his forehead, eyes darting around the small closet as he tried desperately to think.

"He… He was with _me_ when I… When it got me. We were on the stairs and…" he felt his stomach drop as his heart began to race. "I was racing ahead of him on the stairs and he was yelling down at me to slow down. It would've heard him. It would've known he was there, I… If I had _listened to him_, we could've fought it together, but..." Clint's voice trailed off and he covered his mouth instead, closing his eyes. "_Fuck_."

"Hey," Natasha quickly put a hand on his good arm, giving a small squeeze. He could tell she was trying to keep her voice calm and soothing, but she could hear the same worry he felt rushing through him. "He's probably okay. He's a _superhuman_, remember? He can handle himself against _anything_." She paused, a realization hitting her. "Actually, maybe it didn't even go for him… If it got the three of _us_ and put us all in the same place… Wouldn't it have done the same thing if it got Steve? Even if it thought he was dead, I mean, it thought _you _were dead." He knew that he shouldn't give into hope, but some part of him desperately wanted to believe her. Nodding slowly, he looked between Natasha and Thor.

"Alright," he licked his lips slightly before continuing. "So what do we do? How do we get out of here?"

"Well, it's been locking me in since it put me here… But I don't remember hearing it locking us in after it brought you," Natasha offered. Thor made a face.

"It could be a trap," he pointed out. "It may very well be waiting on the other side of the door for us to try and come out." Clint nodded.

"It does seem a little too convenient," he agreed but paused, considering it. "Though… I guess it's _possible_ that it isn't."

"It _is_ our only exit," Natasha pointed out. Clint's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around the room.

"Yeah, where are we?"

"A closet," Natasha reminded him as she began going through her phone. "Lets try Tony and Bruce before doing anything too stupid."

"Good plan," Thor and Clint watched Natasha as her thumbs moved across the screen, sending a message to 'Tin Man', who Clint could only assume meant Tony.

_[5:01, (sending)] Are you ok we are stuck in closet b7. Nat Clint thor._

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she stared at the screen. Clint leaned slightly to see that she had no bars.

"What the hell?" she whispered frustratedly. Hesitating, she held up the phone above their heads, trying to get a better signal. "It was able to send fine _before_, why _now_?" Her voice trailed off as she watched the send bar stall and eventually stop just before indicating that it sent. Chewing on her lip, she got to her feet, back against the wall, holding her phone up still. Several long moments passed before she sat down and turned the screen off.

"Did it work?" Clint asked in the darkness, eyes trying to adjust all over again but finding nothing to focus his vision. It was too dark in this closet.

"I sure fucking _hope so_," Natasha replied with a small huff.

"I wonder why it would suddenly be having issues?" An idea dawned on him and Clint felt his hair stand on end. "Un...unless _it_ was doing it… Maybe it _wanted you_ to be able to get my attention earlier… But now that it has us both, it…" his voice trailed off and he strained his ears to try and hear any sort of movement outside the door, as though the creature were standing right on the other side of it still. It surely had left, hadn't it?

"Isn't that a pleasant thought," Natasha sounded almost defeated, sighing quietly. "So now what?"

Silence.

"It… It _did leave_, didn't it?" Clint asked cautiously, as though afraid of the wrong answer.

"I think so," Thor offered hopefully. "At least it sounded like it did. And I haven't heard anything to indicate that it returned."

"Me either," Natasha agreed, but Clint heard her swallow hard. She wasn't as sure and she was claiming.

"Well, we probably have four options," Clint informed them, not wanting to dwell on the uncertainty for too long. "Either we wait here for cell service that may or may not ever come back…"

"Sounds safe," Natasha pointed out.

"We can take our chances with the door and running the hell away. Except-"

"You can't run," Thor interrupted. "I could probably carry you."

"Okay, perfect," Clint continued his list of ideas. "Or we can wait for rescue that may or may not ever come." There was another pause.

"What was the fourth idea?" Natasha asked softly and Clint sighed.

"We wait _or _we open the door and we die, I guess," he shrugged his good shoulder, despite neither of them being able to see it in the darkness.

"Well I'd prefer we don't do _that_," Thor coughed softly, muffling the noise slightly with his arm. "I say we take our chances with the door."

"I agree," Clint was thankful he wasn't the only one. He waited for Natasha but she didn't make a sound. "...Nat?" There was another silence.

"Okay," her voice was tense. "_If_ it isn't out there and we don't get killed right away, there _is_ a stairwell just down the hallway. I could see the door for it when it brought Thor. And… If it _is_ waiting for us, and this _is_ a trap…."

"We die?" Clint offered.

"We die. Together. All of us," Natasha agreed.

"We die," Thor repeated. Clint heard shuffling as Natasha stood up again, her back pressed to the wall. "Shall I lift you now?" Thor asked him, lifting Clint up into the air before he could reply. "Are we ready?" he asked. After a moment, Clint heard the soft noise of a door handle turning. Thor's grip tightened slightly, one of his arms around Clint's back, the other under his knees. Trying to ignore the burning sensation in his leg, he held his breath as the door slowly and quietly creaked open.


End file.
